


one step closer (moving slower)

by hiatus



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alpha Hannibal Lecter, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Omega Will Graham, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-05-26 13:27:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15001856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiatus/pseuds/hiatus
Summary: Will presented when he was born.Manifested when he was sixteen.Seems a bit redundant and overkill now that he'semerging, yes? Well. He's emerging so he can just deal.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [fortune favors the brave](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14978321) by [hiatus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiatus/pseuds/hiatus). 



> I have like four kudos on my first fic I ever posted here and I'm jittery as fuck out of happiness that I made a continuation of it. Holy shit. 
> 
> So the thing is that I watched HTTYD and the scene where Toothless sprouts glowy, blue scales on its spine when scratched is enough for me to based this loosely on that. I feel like pointing out that it's not necessarily a human thing to do in my abo dynamics. But you'll see. I think. Idk.
> 
> *mumbles* I'm not promising anything for this fic because it's going to be super slow updates but while it lasts, enjoy it I guess? *mumbles*
> 
> Unbeta'd and while I reread it for like, a hundredth time it was starting to become incoherent to me. So if anyone interested to be my beta, I'd be pleased as heck. Tags will also be added in the future. 
> 
> Title comes from a song by Tender - Erode. It's such a Hannigram song you're gonna die if you listen to it.

 

 

 

“Will Graham?”

Will comes to his surroundings slowly. He looks up and sees a nurse calmly looking for his person. He goes without responding to the nurse, but nods in silent thanks when he reaches the doctor’s office.

His yearly appointment to the clinic feels claustrophobic as always, and he sighs. This place feels like a shithole, the atmosphere smells like a shithole, the ambience burns his senses and that’s enough of an argument of how shitty the whole thing is. And Will has done this for how many years now? Christ. He shakes his head to lose some of the edge, and enters.

Dr. Alana Bloom is a remarkable woman in her early thirties, and the pang he feels when he sees her isn’t as trivial as longing, but of fleeting desire that he once harbours out of misplaced interest.

Simply put, he was delusional.

He sits on the opposite chair by her desk broodily and Dr. Bloom smiles.

“Hello, Will,” she greets. It is quite early in the morning by the clinic standard, and Will thinks of – not sleeping the day before – how he missed drinking his coffee earlier even though he had a mug ready on the table – wondering if he gave his dogs enough food that morning – and forgetting to take out the trash he swear he held in his hand before he went out – when Jack called him about a case – or the plan for take-out dinner tonight –.

Realising that Dr. Bloom is waiting for a response, he flushes before replying quietly, “Hello, Doctor.”

Dr. Bloom’s smile widens. She knows Will has a habit of thinking miles a minute, and that it isn’t always a healthy thing yet she never really try to do anything to curb it. Will has no difficulty in processing anything when they interact. He simply likes to think everything at once.

“How are you doing?” she asks, partially as a doctor, and as a friend. She has a medical file on Will Graham on her desk by her right arm, fiddling it. She’ll open it once Will clears his mind enough to reply. It’s a subtle routine they established since the first year of Will’s check-up. She waits for the sake of Will’s comfort, knowing as well that unnecessary surprises rarely do Will any favour.

“No more than usual,” Will says, rubbing his neck. Then, changing his mind, he adds, “Feels a little hot though.”

Dr. Bloom hums. She opens the file and browse through several notes that she took in the previous years. Her eyes fall on a date and below it, a note that she underlined twice. Her eyes widens marginally. She concludes fast enough, although she pointedly doesn’t tell Will what exactly she took notice of.

“Headaches? Any muscle pains?” she asks instead, leaning back in her chair.

“Stomach cramps, mostly. My lower back is killing me when I stand a little too long,” Will answers steadily. If he can guess, he knows what’s happening. He recognizes his own body system after all. Doesn’t make it any less annoying when she’d confirm it.

“I see. How often do you feel the need to sit or lie down?”

“Depends. I could be lying down right now if I’m not sitting,” Will responds and Dr. Bloom huffs a tiny laugh.

“Alright, Will,” she smiles and jots down additional notes to his file. “How’s your vision?” Dr. Bloom asks, not looking up from the document. Writes more into the margin of lines than Will remembers she has ever done.

Will blinks. That’s not usually the line of questions she has asked before. He must’ve looked pretty confuse by the question because the doctor smiles, and not unknowingly. Will clears his throat, “Quite fine, I should think.”

“Good, good,” she responds evasively, and gesturing Will to another chair beside her table. Will goes obediently and sits closer to her when she reaches for his temple. “I’m gonna put pressure into here a little, okay?”

Will nods, trusting without expressing it verbally. And the pressure she put makes Will wince, and embarrassingly, he whines, his fingers scratching the back of her hand where the tips are causing indents on his skin.

“Hurts?” she asks, vocally clinical. Will nods again, and trembles when she lets go.

“Your eyes are slitting, Will,” she says when she goes for her chair, humming thoughtfully. She isn’t concern, not at the moment, Will observes. His fingers reach her once-there indents, and presses it himself. He winces again, groaning.

“What do you mean?” he sighs, distracted by the zinging he feels behind his eyelids.

“You know what it means – you’re emerging,” she answers flatly, delicate eyebrows rising.

Will makes a face, feeling incredulous. “I’ve already manifested, Dr. Bloom,” he says, unable to hide the tone where he really meant to say _and you should damn well know this because you’re my doctor_.

Dr. Bloom smiles indulgingly, and says, “Of course you are.”

Will waits for her to say more before he comes to realisation – oh. Oh shit. His _irises_  are _slitting_.

“Are you saying I’ll be sprouting scales on my spine sooner rather than later?” he asks meekly, although he knows it is moot to.

She nods to confirm it, looking unbelievably satisfied with the news. Will doesn’t share that feeling as he leans back in his chair, and resists the urge to slouch any more than he is currently doing, lest he melts into a puddle on the floor.

“I’ll need an Alpha, huh?” he says, his attention raptly on a stethoscope lying untouched on the doctor’s desk.

“Yes, you do,” she says and grins when Will squints at her suspiciously.

“This is in no way means that I’ll _bond_ ,” he says slowly, like she might not get it.

“I know. I’m not hoping here, but I have faith,” she replies, her grin magnifies into a lecherous one, and Will makes his grumpiness visible. She laughs when she sees his predictable reaction.

Will shakes his head, resigned by the excitement that begins to grace Dr. Bloom’s face. He sighs loudly, so the doctor know Will is disappointed that he is about to allow her a certain privilege. “I’m assuming you have something for me, then,” he says in defeat.

“ _Someone_. And yes, yes I do. I’m all prepared for this. Would you like to meet them?”

Will wants to say no. But then he’s intrigue enough to not let this opportunity go. Slitting business is a serious business after all, as it happens twice in a lifetime, if you’re lucky. The dynamics of the human biology are tedious at best, theoretically proven with the percentage of classes that present, manifest, and emerge often results in astronomical chances.

Will presented when he was born, manifested it when he was sixteen. It is only by sheer chance that emerging happens to him – this news should be exciting to anyone. But Will isn’t just anyone, and he doesn’t dread it like some would, or anticipate it mindlessly. He is… apprehensive with the information of emerging with the need to rely on someone – to endure the duration of his heat being restricted by someone else’s hands.

He doesn’t completely refuse the idea of his next heat with someone else altogether – he entertains it enough times before – but what are the likelihood of him being bonded afterwards? Maybe it is the uncertainty that he can’t exactly take. He is reluctant, yes, but so does in everything he do. It’s just excuse by this point to deflect and reject, and he is at least wise enough to acknowledge that.

But decision needs to be make. He weighs everything in the scant minutes of Dr. Bloom patiently waiting for a response, and comes to the not undesirable conclusion that if he can maybe gain something from this. _When_ , he goes through with it.

He says yes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I didn't mean to update this late. But I just finished my semester so, yakno. *bows in shame* But thank you for the kudos and comments!!! 
> 
> This update is late bc my perfectionist, wordy-words dumbass decided that the story needs some more context. 
> 
> I did a lot of editings in this bc I cannot for the life of me fathom a specific word in English without crumbling into tears. English is ridiculous holy shit _w h y_. Unbeta'd, all mistakes are mine so if you wanna point out, you can.
> 
> I tried to make dialogues happened but maybe next chapter. Still no Hannibal in sight, and you know what this means? *drumrolls*
> 
> I don't. Enjoys!

 

 

 

 

_There were stories Will heard, growing up. One of them was –_

_– when you manifested as an Omega, it could be little to no time when an Alpha would show up to claim you – to bond, to mate, to sire. It was, since the dawn of time, the ideal way to things. The norms that society uphold for the sake of appearing decent and respected. Rarely any name of a well-received family become the subject for taint – once you were in the circle, it was white-picket fence all over. The very essence of happily ever after._

_His baser instincts purred at the idea, but revolted at the realising it true part of it._

_One, because fate sometimes an asshole, Will didn’t exactly have an abundance of Alphas at his feet begging for an eternity._

_Two, Will decided that he had had enough of divine interventions that he would rather mould his own fate to his damn liking._

_Three, well. Will was just himself alright? It felt unjust to label himself the perfect breed of his kind – he hadn’t stoop to that level of obnoxious yet. He did believe that biology had its own due course, evolving creature that they were, but to reach the stage of the naturally inclined? Will vehemently thought – no. He wouldn’t change the way he was any more than the next person._

_Will abhorred the concept simply because it was impractical. For what it was worth, it was an unreliable tale told from many through words of mouth – not exactly impartial to how things were now. He reasoned that just because there existed a set tradition, it did not mean it was an impeccable planning. It felt annoyingly competitive to Will. Felt like it would stunt his own growth._

_Years passed without anyone being none the wiser about what Will wanted, and what he needed._

_He never really did get the Alpha he was meant to get when he manifested._

_He never even dreamed of it._

 

: : :

 

Will wakes up the next morning feeling unusually well-rested.

After the appointment with Dr. Bloom, she purposefully had gotten him another appointment for a massage that was a requirement – when any class emerges, that is – though arguably suspicious if you consider Will’s opinion on the matter. Nevertheless, he never said no to Dr. Bloom before, no reason to do so now.

So he went to the recommended massage parlour the very same day, and went home just when it was about sunset.

Alright, so the massage was… helpful, he guesses. If he has to count the amount of time he had an actual good night’s sleep, say, within a week, this in turn feels like it’s terribly long overdue.

Ever since Jack came to him for a ‘borrowed imagination’, his sleep schedule has never reverted back to how it was. Not saying he had a normal schedule, per se, but at least it wasn’t as jarring as it is now.

He isn’t going to do anything about it, still. It’s constantly grating to do things for the beta, yes, but Will’s mind has always thirst for the wicked, and when at some point during all of this he gets to learn, even from inside another’s gruesome perspective, he _learns._

So he accepts it for what it is.

But massages. He would probably consider for another at a later time, he muses silently.

Will shifts on the bed, rolling to his side and sighs loudly to the air. He watches as Winston head perks up from the floor, head tilted in that adorable way dogs always do, when curiosity gets to them. He counts to ten in his head, stands languidly before stretching, and feels satisfied when he heard his bones pop. He bends down and ruffles Winston’s fur on the way to his bathroom, receiving a happy bark.

It’s when he starts his shower that he felt it.

The raised skin on the back of his neck. He was just pushing his hair back from under the shower spray when his fingertips brush the swelling of protruding skins. Slowly, he drags his fingers down his neck until he reaches his spine. He shivers.

It feels odd. But good odd, he thinks. It’s not _gross,_ but he still feels discomfited by it.

His fingers ghosts over them, unsure about how he should touch them. He read about pre-scales in a handbook about emergences; how it will eventually spread out to the base of his spine – his tailbone, to be precise, and how it will feel like actual bones sprouting. The hard texture, the grooves in between. There was a drawn diagram but it’s vague to Will’s mind at the moment.

It wasn’t really a good enough reference for what he’s about to go through, he knows, and he curses to himself that he neglects to learn about this too, even when it came unexpectedly.

Even so, he begins to caress them, closing his eyes, only feeling his new skin.

He doesn’t really know what to make of the feeling of sudden headiness when he does it, but strangely enough, he enjoys it. He’s blindly aware of the zings behind his eyelids.

_Slitting,_ Dr. Bloom had said.

He lets out another long sigh, reminded by the way fate seems to lurk her way into his life, again.

 

: : :

 

The arrangement that he’s supposed to have will not happen until two weeks from the first appointment he made with Dr. Bloom.

He receives assurance from her that the person is preparing for his emergence, and requires an ample amount of time to have it all _pristine_ and _perfect_.

She said it with such giddy excitement that Will’s affected by it. Will assumes that this person is a good friend of hers, and surmises that maybe it isn’t half bad to emerge if it gets her this happy.

_Delusional, William. Christ._

He is also informed that, after a second appointment with her in the weekend, his scales are growing exponentially well. Will shrugged it off, saying that it was just protruding spine.

But then she rubbed the grooves in-between and Will fucking _trembled_ at the pressure. He glared at her when she smirked, pulling off doctorly face and proceeded to list down possible symptoms that he might be having pre-emerging.

There isn’t a symptom that is distressful happening yet, aside from the existence of pre-scales, but Dr. Bloom had explicitly said with concern that emerging is unlike any other phases. It could be damaging without supervision, to an extent, and gravely reminded Will that he will face difficulties along the transformation.

_It will be different, this time, Will,_ she had said. It won’t do to compare his previous manifestation with emergence – that he would feel a certain kind of influence that isn’t his own. He isn’t very sure that the reluctance he felt at that moment is a product of years of not trusting people – of intimacies that he loathes sharing. He’s hesitant, but strangely anticipates it. Will fell quiet, and took the information in.

After that, he figures if this person that is supposed to help him emerge needs two weeks to prepare, he might as well as listen to the doctor, and do some research on his own. He’s the one emerging after all.

Even after all the triumphs in independently managing his heats before, he really doesn’t want to be seen as ignorant to this person, when he will eventually become acquainted to them.

 

+

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are appreciated! 
> 
> (Does anyone gets hives when posting next chapter bc I do. Gosh.)

**Author's Note:**

> Constructive criticism is... is--welcome. *drenches in sweat*


End file.
